


Pundits of the Caribbean

by FrenchRoast



Category: Anderson Cooper 360, Colbert Report FPF, Daily Show
Genre: Crack, Crack Pairing, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 18:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrenchRoast/pseuds/FrenchRoast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holly's prompt=Stephen Colbert is visiting Florida during the campaign trail when he meets a soogy dog who offers to take him on a fishing trip. Colbert accepts.<br/>Partially inspired by the "Must Love Jaws" video on YouTube.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Stephen Colbert stood at the end of the marina's dock, the corners of his suit jacket flapping slightly in the ocean breeze. The sun was rising, its radiant beams wafting over Colbert and the land he so dearly loved: America.

It irked him to no end to know that the same sun shone brightly over the rest of the world before it got to the great country of his forefathers. Was it too much to ask for the opposing hemisphere to remain in darkness? It almost enraged him, now that he thought about it. His blood began to churn, and his face grew red state red at the thought of those liberal Europeans and all the other freedom-haters out there soaking up the American people's sunshine. "If only I were Storm. Then I could send clouds to blot out their skies and that'd teach them," he said wistfully.

A giant hand clapped down on his shoulder. "Word on the docks is you're looking for a boat, Mr. Colbert."

Stephen turned to face the arm, and the shoulders, and the person attached to the hand that was on his shoulder. The man was giantesque, with white hair and a wild look in his eyes, much like Wolf Blitzer caught off guard with actual news, if Wolf Blitzer were the size of that Hagrid guy from those demonic children's books about wizards walking around naked with horses.

Colbert shrugged and let the hand slide off his shoulder. "It's Sir Dr. Stephen T. Colbert, D.F.A.," he said, enunciating the silent t in Colbert. "And yes, I am looking for a boat. Have you got one?"

"Depends on what you need it for."

"Truth, justice, and the American way, of course. Will you sail me to the ends of the earth for that noblest of goals?"

The man raised an eyebrow. "How much does truth, justice and the American way pay?"

Colbert smiled. "A capitalist. I like that, but I'm going to have to ask you to do this pro bono."

"I don't do any of that Broken Mountain crap. I'm a captain, not a sailor," the man said. He started to walk away. It was at this point that Colbert noticed his peg leg.

"What happened to your leg? Vietnam?"

The sea captain turned and shook his head. "Bear."

A grimace of horror struck Colbert's face. "Those godless killing machines." He paused for a second, almost as though he was actually thinking. In reality, his heart was moved by the sea captain's daring tale of fighting off the violent, angry grizzly with naught but a stick and a roll of scotch tape, like MacGuyver(or at least that's how Colbert imagined the tale went). "Sir, I'll pay you to take me out on your boat."

"I'll fetch her! Come on, Colbert, there's jibs to be boomed!"

"Hey, I don't do any of that Broken Mounties crap either!" Colbert said, but he followed after the hobbling sailor nonetheless.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colbert needs a bigger boat; Jon Stewart and Anderson Cooper...cameo.

"There she be, Mr. Colbert. The Scarlett O'Hara. Second best ship in the all the seas of all the world." The ship was beautiful; the sails were a deep red, and the mermaid on the prow almost looked real. There was even a giant American flag waving from the larger mast. "There's none that can match her for speed."

Colbert raised a disapproving eyebrow. "Second best? Second best? If that's second best, I'm going to need a bigger boat. I'm an American, sir. I only want the best."

"Sorry, sailor," the old captain said with a scuffing half laugh. "That's the Blue Girl, and I rented her out to two other landlubbers quarter of an hour ago."

"Well, I'm no landlubber, sailor. The ocean might try to swallow me up, but even King Triton knows better than to mess with me. His trident is nothing compared to good old American bubblegum."

The sea captain stared at Stephen.

"Four out of five dentists agree, sir," Colbert said with certainty. "And the fifth dentist was just an east coast liberal softie who thinks bridges are fixed prostheses used to replace missing teeth. Everyone knows bridges are structures that span rivers. Like the one they're building in Hungary and naming after me."

"The boat's 500 dollars' rent a day," the sea captain said, ignoring what he considered to be the rantings of a crazy person. "With a thousand dollar security deposit. It's another two hundred if you want me to help you sail it."

"Help? Rhett Butler didn't need help. And I'm an American, not a Confederate blockade runner, so neither do I. We boys from Charleston know how to handle ladies like Scarlett O'Hara." Colbert sighed, the nostalgia of his youth momentarily catching him breathless. It'd been so long since he wore hoopskirts and ate barbeque. "So who were these landlubbers, eh? 'Cause when I catch up to them, we're swapping boats."

The sea captain shrugged. "Reporters, I think. You a journalist, too?"

"Me? A-" here Stephen gagged a little bit, "-a mere journalist?"

"I didn't mean to offend." He motioned for Colbert to follow him up the ramp onto the boat, which Colbert did. "Sorry."

Colbert sighed as he leaned against the helm. "It's just that I'm so much more than a journalist. I'm a beacon of truth to the pitiful masses yearning to frolic in the sunlight of glorious liberty. My home is the home of the brave, and the land surrounding it is the land of the free. In short, sir, I am the declaration of independence personified in flesh and blood, and most importantly, guts. Now get out of my way, I have a mission to accomplish!"

There was a cough, and the sea captain held out his hand. "Security deposit?"

Colbert fumbled through his pockets and produced the cash, all in fives (Lincoln being the greatest president before Bush, Stephen only carried fives and pennies). The sea captain hurried off the boat even as Stephen untied the boat from the docks. As he eased it out into the open waters of the Gulf of Mexico, he thought he could see the other boat ahead of him. Well, he'd catch up with them and rain righteous patriotism on them. They would beg to be released from that boat, and take this lesser vessel. He would leave them there, and continue on his quest, the greatest quest of all time: the Cable News Pundits' Scavenger Hunt.

As the headwind picked up and carried him steadily on towards the other ship, which he could now see had blue sails, he looked over the scavenger hunt list. All he had left to accomplish was:

-Interview a pirate  
-Film heartwarming documentary about a vampire child--Kirsten Dunst off limits, however  
-Get one frame of Paris Hilton not being a slut

He wasn't worried about the last item; after all, who had ever heard of a hotel being a slut? It would be agonizing to have to actually step foot in France, but as he looked down at the bright red band on his right wrist, he remembered that there were worse things. Wrist violence. Grizzly bears. People who thought the Earth revolved around the sun. 

Stephen gritted his teeth as he approached the other ship. He was coming up fast on their starboard side, and it seemed they hadn't yet noticed him. After lashing the steering wheel tightly with rope so it would stay on course, he ran to the main deck and began prepping the guns.

"Stephen! What are you doing?" a familiar voice cried out from the other ship. Stephen knew it instantly: Jon Stewart, his Jewish friend. "You're not going to shoot at us!"

Colbert looked up. "Oh, hi there Jon!" He beamed. This was a pleasant surprise. "No, I was, I was just, you know, uh...what are you doing on that boat?"

"We could ask you the same question, Stephen," Anderson Cooper said in an even-toned voice as he swung down from the sails. "Isn't it a little unusual for someone to try and sail a double masted wishbone ketch...(here he paused, dramatically) alone?"

"Anderson Cooper?!" The shock in Stephen's voice betrayed the betrayal he felt. "What you doing here? With Jon?"

"We're...we're just..." Jon trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

"Fishing," Anderson Cooper supplied.

"Yeah! Fishing. We're fishing. We're fishing buddies."

"FISHING BUDDIES?" Stephen was scandalized. "That's worse than being gay cowboys."

"In some movies, it's the same thing," Anderson pointed out.

"Jon, is this because I called you out that one time? You know it was just for the show!"

"No, Stephen, me being on a boat with Anderson Cooper has nothing to do with that." Jon shook his head.

Anderson coughed. "The truth is, Stephen, we're working on the scavenger hunt together."

Stephen gasped. He looked at Jon. "Are you trying to tell me that just because Anderson Cooper hosted The Mole and got to experience scavenger hunts vicariously through the contestants, that makes him a better scavenger hunting partner? Is that it, Jon? Are you ashamed of me? No, wait, better question," Stephen said angrily, "are you ashamed of America? Because that's what I am, Jon. When Thomas Jefferson wrote about the right to the pursuit of happiness, he was talking about the right of all Americans to try to be me. And you're just going to give all of that up?"

"Stephen, it's nothing. I swear!"

"Oh, is that what our friendship meant, Jon? Nothing?" Stephen choked back a sob. "I can't deal with the lies any more, Mr. Stewart! How could you lead me on? I... I gave you my election campaign reporting virginity!"

"Colbert, how does Jon's betrayal make you feel? I know I'd be upset if my friend gave me up for a smarter, more visually striking partner," Anderson said. He still needed to check off "tear-jerking confession of loss," and he hadn't so much as seen a picture of a Hurricane Katrina victim lately. This might be his only shot.

"YOU!" Stephen raged. "I'll fix you...I'll fix you BOTH!" He cackled menacingly, and struck a match. He held the flame up where they could see it, and then, slowly, lowered it to the cannon's fuse.

"STEPHEN! NO!"

To be continued....


End file.
